


Coalescing

by Cottontail



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Blood Drinking, Drabble, I blame the pandemic, I love David Talbot too much, M/M, References to Drugs, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottontail/pseuds/Cottontail
Summary: Blissed-out David and Louis on a couch at the back of a rave club.
Relationships: Louis de Pointe du Lac/David Talbot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Coalescing

**Author's Note:**

> I have no notes. It just happened in my head and I wrote it all down as fast as possible before it disappeared. :)

David slid like liquid into the corner of a blue leather couch at the back of the dark club. Every muscle in his body felt limp and relaxed. Something was in the blood of that victim he’d just taken out in the back alley. But he’d known that even before he tore into that tender young mortal’s throat with the reckless hunger of a wild cat pouncing on a rabbit. He stretched his legs out in front of him, placed an arm out along the back of the couch, let his head fall back, and stared up at the ceiling lights. They were a myriad of colors spreading, coalescing. There was very strange electric music, heavy, slightly disturbing; mirroring his inner state. How strange life was for him now. How strange.

A weight smashed down into the couch beside him, directly in the spot with the least amount of room, where his other arm was along the arm rest. He lifted his head and found it was Louis, equally lethargic and careless. Disheveled and beautiful Louis. 

“My blood brother,” David chuckled, the let his head fall back again.

Louis stretched, made himself more comfortable there in the circle of David’s arm. His head resting against David’s shoulder, his face against his neck. “David.” One word, in that too soft, too seductive voice. David laughed again, because it was humorous to him in is lightheaded state.

Turning his head, he kissed Louis’s temple. He tasted the salty tinge of blood sweat on his skin, smelled the light eucalyptus of the shampoo in his dark hair. “You’re sweet,” he purred.

Louis hummed a bit against his throat. “I know.” 

They both laughed then returned to their own personal altered states of awareness. The music was vibrating in him, taking him down paths and into dark places. There were lights flashing, which bothered him a bit. Mortals were crushed into this warehouse, dancing suggestively everywhere, drinking, laughing, yelling to one another over the music, throwing what might be glitter or confetti of bright colors at one another. 

“This is the weirdest fucking music,” Louis muttered against him. Louis never swore. It would have shocked David had he not been so anesthetized. 

“So bad,” David agreed.

They laughed again, became almost hysterical. Then worn out from it, slid back into the lethargy, the stupor. 

“Where is Lestat,” David asked, suddenly startled. He lifted his head from the back of the couch and blinked into the cavernous club, trying to pick out the familiar golden hair in the crowds. Paranoia settled on him. Where was their maker? What was he into now? They should go find him.

Louis made a sound against David’s throat, a cross between, “Don’t know,” and “Don’t care.” 

David shivered at the feel of his lips against him. He smiled. He didn’t care either. His head fell back again and this time he turned into Louis, captured his mouth, and kissed lingeringly, tasting the blood of the kill still on him. It deepened, Louis moved to fit more firmly against David. David slid a hand up that smooth throat, along his face, into the black curl of his hair, holding him firmly as he bit Louis’s tongue with one of his fangs, drawing blood. Louis made a sound at the back of his throat, a deeply encouraging noise, which drew the monster out of David, the animal blood-lust that he’d inherited the night Lestat made him. 

He pulled away from the kiss, much to Louis’s frustrated disappointed sounds. His hands dragged Louis tighter against himself, he licked down his throat to the pulse-point, feeling the rapid beat against his tongue before biting sharply in. Louis fisted one hand into David’s hair, painfully. The thumping music was in his veins now, as was the blood. Louis’s blood; luscious and sweet and so addictive. 

He drew it in so very slowly, growling as he did so. Louis was a limp weight against him, their hearts immediately in sync, such that it was one heavy beat. David was never not fascinated by this. It didn’t tend to happen when he drank from victims or even from Lestat. He and Louis were two sides of the same coin; mirrored images. 

Louis made another small sound against him, ecstasy, and it slid through David’s entire body. He pulled the blood harder into himself, drowning in the rapture of it, drowning in Louis. But he wouldn’t drain him completely. Even in this state of lust he had some manners, and it would be rude to take all that Louis had just hunted to replenish. 

He withdrew, breathing deeply against his throat, licking at the healing wounds, then lifting his head, heavy as it was, to look into that face. Louis’s eyes were half-lidded, green and glazed with the passion; he was not unaware, just disoriented, in a bliss. 

There was a sound; an amused bit of all too familiar laughter. They both glanced to the source. Lestat sprawled in a chair across from them. A manic angel, dressed in modern attire of the young, hair a shining fall of gold, eyes fierce grey in the flash of the club lights. Just under the thump of the heavy music David could hear his words. “My beauties. My twins.”


End file.
